


The Ties That Bind

by ccgh518



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Child Abandonment, Child Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, No One Ever Says Anything About Soulmates, Pre-WCKD, Psychic Bond, Sort Of, again.. sort of, and Post-WCKD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13733202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccgh518/pseuds/ccgh518
Summary: When Thomas was eight years old, before the solar flares ravaged the earth and WCKD took control of his life, he was just a boy named Stephen, who heard a voice late at night.Or an au, where Thomas falls in love with the girl in his head, who turns out to also be real.





	1. I'm Not Crying. You're Not Crying, Are You?

**Author's Note:**

> this whole series is based on a series from a different fandom that frankly has changed the way that i write things. it’s one of the most stunning pieces of fiction i have ever had the privilege of reading. i will eventually link back to that fic, but for now, it has ~spoilers~ kind of, so not yet.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen hears what sounds like someone crying in his empty and quiet bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, this was going to be a Stiles series, but then I saw The Death Cure and just knew that this would be perfect for the poor, miserable mess of a human being that is Thomas. Before you go reading, and then come back to be all ‘Cat, what are you smoking? Thomas isn’t even mentioned in this series.’ Isn’t he though? Thomas’ birth name was Stephen, and he’ll lose that name and become ‘Thomas’ eventually, but for the first few chapters, he’s just little Stevie.
> 
> One more important note: feel free to insert yourself into the original female character’s shoes, i’m not trying to stop you. i know it helps some people connect to a fic better. but, ethically, i felt it was wrong to force this to be a blatant reader insert series. there are too many mature and dark themes and i wanted the reader to not be too heavily involved in them.
> 
> Anyway…. this will take place from Thomas’ childhood, well into adulthood, post-The Death Cure, and i hope you all enjoy :)

Stephen laid in bed, pretending his hands were fighter planes that were shooting at each other, mid-air. He made quiet noises, mimicking explosions, and then smacked his fingers together. He did this for what he was sure was hours, then finally sighed and rolled onto his side. 

 _He couldn’t fall asleep for the life of him_.

His throat was too scratchy and his nose was too stuffed, and he simply loathed being sick. 

He went back to his imaginary war games, until his tiny eye lids drooped and his breath came out loud and shaky through his mouth. He hadn’t been asleep for very long, not truly able to fall deeply into his unconsciousness while he couldn’t properly breathe, when he was woken up by a searing headache.

Stephen felt it above both his eyebrows. He grimaced and pushed his tiny, skinny fingers into his skull, trying to massage the headache away. 

It was a low, consistent thrum of pain and no matter which way the young boy turned or laid, it wouldn’t go dissipate. He was about to get up to go tell his mother, maybe she’d give him some medicine or maybe she’d kiss his forehead and the dull pain would just disappear, but then he heard  _something_.

Stephen’s eyes had already adjusted to the darkness in his room, which wasn’t completely dark to begin with; a single nightlight plugged into the wall gave off a soft glow. He surveyed each corner of his room, and then his door, still empty and still closed. He was as alone as he had been when his mother had tucked him in and shut the door behind her.

He laid back in bed, now certain he had just been imagining things, and closed his eyes. The headache thrummed under his brows and he rubbed hard at them, seeing spots of green and purple against his black eyelids.

Then he heard it again. 

His eyes snapped open, but this time, Stephen remained still. He laid in bed and listened.

It sounded like  _crying_.

Stephen shut his eyes and focused harder, forgetting about the sharp pain building inside his skull. 

It was  _definitely_  crying. 

Soft, staccato and quiet, but  _definitely_   _crying_. He searched his bedroom again, maneuvering to look under his bed, tip-toeing to peek into his toy chest, hamper and closet, and finally, cracking open the door, to look both ways, down the hall.

There was simply  _no one_. It was late and it was quiet; all the world around Stephen was asleep.

He couldn’t hear the soft sobs anymore and, for reasons that he didn’t understand, that worried him. He scrambled to get back under his covers, where he had heard them each time, and he waited, not long, before he heard the crying again. It was distant and calmer, but still there.

Ever inquisitive, and even more frustrated with this losing game of hide-and-seek, Stephen spoke out into the void of his bedroom. “Why are you crying?”

The sound of gentle sobbing was replaced by a quick gasp, and then silence.

Stephen looked around his room again, this time not daring to get out from under his covers, in case that was the key to him hearing this mysterious noisemaker. He knew what he heard though:  _crying then a gasp_.

He  _hadn’t_  imagined those sounds. He heard them as if they had been done right in front of him. So, he spoke out into the ether again.

“Hello?”

Silence followed, but Stephen felt that it was  _too_  silent, more so than it had been before he ever heard the sounds of crying in his bedroom.

He sat up, got to his knees, and carefully inspected every nook and cranny of his bedroom that he could, from his mattress. This was the most infuriating game of hide-and-seek that Stephen had ever played. He tried to huff out of his nose, in frustration, but was swiftly reminded that he was sick and could only breathe out of his mouth. His frustration turned into childish misery and he threw himself back against his pillows.

“Where are you?” He said with an unmistakable whine, because now that Stephen was letting himself feel something more than curiosity, he could  _feel_  that someone was there with him.

A short silence was followed by a sharp sniffle, the sound of someone clearly trying to push snot back up into their nose, Stephen thought to himself.

“I’m home.” A soft, small voice whispered.

Stephen smiled. He  _knew_  he had heard something. 

He just knew it. 

He looked around. “Is your home my bedroom?” He was eager to find what he hoped would be a new friend.

“No, my home is  _my_   _home_.” Another sniffle sounded in Stephen’s ears. “Where are  _you_?” The disembodied voice asked, and now Stephen was certain that it was that of a little girl’s.

“In my bed, in my house.” Stephen explained, plainly. “Are you an angel?” He asked, with unmistakable whimsy and wonder.

Stephen could hear the breathing of his nighttime intruder settle, become steady and less afraid or sad. “No. Are you?”

Stephen shook his head. “Nope. Are you a ghost?”

The little girl laughed softly and Stephen felt warmth fill up the spaces between his protruding ribs. He balled up his tiny fists, with his sheets, and smiled. 

“No.” She replied.

Even though, Stephen couldn’t fathom how something that felt and sounded so pure and sweet and soft and warm and quiet, which didn’t scare him at all, could possibly be one, he had to ask. 

 _He always had to ask_.

“Are you a monster?”

She laughed again, and Stephen’s smile grew toothy, or as toothy as it could be with two baby teeth missing. “No, silly. I’m just a girl. Are  _you_  a monster?”

“No, I’m a  _boy_. My name’s Stephen.”

“ _Stephen_.” The small, sweet, quiet voice echoed and the warmth in Stephen’s chest spread until he could fell it in his fingertips. He liked how his name sounded in her voice.

Stephen closed his eyes and pushed his cheek into his dinosaur pillowcase. “What’s your name?”

“Eleanor, but my brother and sister call me Ellie.”

The voice in Stephen’s bedroom now had a name: ’ _Ellie_ ’.

He thought it matched the soft timbre of how she spoke quite well. “Why were you crying?” He remembered what had drawn his attention to his omnipresent guest, in the first place.

Then Stephen felt something resembling fear pool in the pit of his throat. The silence had returned, but he could still feel the presence of Ellie inside of him. It was hard to explain but she was just  _there_. It brought him comfort to know that his new not-a-ghost, but ghost-like friend had not completely abandoned him.

Stephen was never done questioning the world or those around him, so he pressed for more again, whispering into the darkness of his bedroom, as if she was sitting next to him. 

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere.” Ellie told him. 

“Are you okay?”

The fear subsided slightly and Stephen felt her presence strengthen a little more. It made him feel better. 

“Yeah.” Ellie confirmed. 

“Why were you crying?” He repeated himself.

A short, uneasy silence filled his room before he heard Ellie’s voice again. “I got in trouble and got grounded. I was just upset.”

Stephen was relieved that was all that was wrong. He had been fretting over the possibility that the voice in his room had been hurt somehow;  _as much as a voice could be hurt_ , Stephen thought.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing.” Ellie answered quickly, before changing the subject. Stephen was so excited that she was talking more that he didn’t even mind that ’ _Nothing_.’ wasn’t really an answer, because she had to have done  _something_  to get grounded. “How can I hear you if you’re not in my apartment right now?  _Are_   _you_  in my apartment right now?”

Stephen shook his head, defiantly. “I’m in  _my_   _house_. In my room, remember?”

He heard Ellie hum quietly. “Then how come I can hear you?”

Stephen shrugged. “I dunno.” Stephen shifted in his bed. “I’m sleepy.”

“Me too.” She whispered more carefully now.

Normally, Stephen, a boy hungry for all the answers in the world, would have been asking follow up question after follow up question, working with Ellie to get to the bottom of their new connection, but his head still ached and his throat still scratched and Ellie’s crying had somehow wiped him out too, and he just didn’t have the energy to dig for answers that night.

Stephen yawned. “Will you still be here when I wake up?” He asked, not  _too_  tired to ignore the major question weighing on his thoughts.

“I don’t know.” She whispered, honestly.

“I hope you are.” Stephen whispered back, before drifting off to sleep.

When Stephen woke, and thought of Ellie, he could feel her. She was still there. 

That night was just the beginning.

* * *

* * *

Stephen tugged on Ellie’s consciousness until he felt her trudge, tired and reluctant, back into his own consciousness. “What’s wrong? You’ve been sad all day.”

Ellie huffed. “School  _sucks_.”

Stephen couldn’t help the way that his lips curled up, and he really couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped from his throat. “Stinks enough that you’re using big kid curse words?” He said, more than a twinge of amusement in his voice.

Stephen could feel her roll her eyes at him and it made him laugh even more. “George says it, why can’t I?”

Stephen peeled another rubberband off the large rubberband ball that he had pulled from his desk, before he laid down on his bed to talk to Ellie, and flung it at his ceiling with practiced precision. “Yeah, well, your brother is fourteen and we’re ten, Elliebean, so  _he_  gets to say the big kid bad words.”

Ellie scoffed, and he could feel her digging her sharp, little toenails into the bottom of her foot. He didn’t mind the slight pain, it almost made him happy; it meant that he could feel her, and that part of their connection wasn’t the most consistent, at all.

“ _Whatever_.” She dismissed his sound logic.

Stephen knew better than to push her when she was this indignant and upset. So, he just laid in bed, quiet, still settled into her space, but present in his own; content to continue snapping rubber bands around his bedroom.

“Could you freaking stop?” She chided him. He could feel her shallow anger. She just wanted to yell about something,  _at_ something. When Stephen was startled by her small outburst, Ellie softened. “It’s  _just_.. it’s hurting my fingers, too.”

“Sorry.” Stephen replied, quiet and small, not wanting to get yelled at again.

Ellie hesitated for a beat, then spoke. “Me too.”

Stephen rolled on to his side and buried his face into his pillow. Now, he was upset too, Ellie’s feelings mixing and bleeding into his own. Her yelling at him didn’t help either. He curled his small body up into a ball and yanked at his rocketship sheets until they covered him.

Then Stephen felt a different kind of warmth; the kind that radiated from the inside out and left him feeling like he was laying next to a furnace. He surged towards it, wanting it to envelop him and swallow him whole. He knew that it was Ellie reaching out, silently apologizing, trying to comfort him. He drank it all up, licking at the remnants, like a cat trying to get every last drop of cream from a saucer.

“How was school for  _you_?” She broke the silence, and he was glad for it. Her voice was the most comforting thing of all.

Stephen shrugged, hoping that Ellie could feel it.

Two years after the first encounter, and Stephen had finally stopped questioning what was going on.

About a year after the first night with Ellie, Stephen got another searing headache, this time throbbing in his temples, and the next day, when he woke up, he could feel Ellie thrashing back and forth under her blankets, trying to escape a nightmare. He called out to her, waking her, and then he felt, or sensed, or whatever, her tiny fists rubbing against her closed eyes. Ever since then, he could feel her and she said that she could feel him.

He didn’t want to question it anymore. He enjoyed the connection too much.

Sometimes it flickered and waned and Ellie would disappear for a few days, but it was never more than that and Stephen was always desperately grateful when she returned. It helped that that was happening with less and less frequency as the years went on, as well.

He logically knew that she wasn’t real, but she was real to him and after two years of having her constantly with him, he’d become dependent on her presence.

“How was your science test?” Ellie asked, and Stephen made no efforts to hide his pleasure in the fact that she remembered that his big multiple chapter exam was that morning.

He tilted his head away from his pillow more and opened his eyes, staring at the blank, light blue walls of his bedroom. He closed them again and pretended that Ellie was in his room with him. “I think I got every question but one right.”

Ellie smiled, and Stephen felt it on his own lips. “You say that every time, and then you still get a hundred. I bet you aced it.”

“What do you want to bet?” Stephen asked, kicking his legs mindlessly, under his sheets, and digging his growing fingers into his soft pillow.

Ellie hummed, audibly, for a few moments. “A  _bajizillion_  dollars.”

“I’ll ask my mom if she can up my allowance.” Stephen joked and Ellie laughed. Her chuckle rattled around in Stephen’s ears and made him feel bright and alive. He was trying to come up with more jokes to keep her laughter coming, when Ellie spoke again.

“Tell me about the rest of your day.”

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” Stephen asked, too young and blunt to care about concepts like shame or the possibility of rejection.

Plus _, it was Ellie_.

He felt her lean her head against her elbow and forearm, and nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry I was in such a bad mood.”

“It’s okay.” Stephen was about to ask what had made her that way, again, but Ellie persisted.

“So, the rest of school?”

Stephen sighed, but moved on quickly, easily distracted by her interest in his day; wanting her to be a part of it, even if it was after the fact. “My spelling test went alright, and we played soccer at recess, but then Mrs. Winstead yelled at me for asking too many questions in social studies again.”

Ellie laughed hard and loud, uninhibited and unashamed. Stephen heard it inside his head and loved the way that it sounded. He turned onto his back and hugged his sides, thinking about hugging her while she laughed. He wore her laughter like an internal fleece blanket, warm and soft.

He wanted more.

Ellie settled and he could feel her toes rubbing against her calf; it was hypnotizing. He almost didn’t hear her when she spoke again, too concentrated on the faint feeling of her toes on his skin. “What a butthead. I’m sure they were good questions.”

Stephen smiled. It was nice having someone that was constantly on his side. “Pretty sure you’re the only one who doesn’t mind my questions.” He postured.

Ellie tutted. “I like all your questions. You’re like  _Curious George_.”

Stephen made monkey noises, and then let Ellie’s laughter vibrate through his body. Her warmth seeped into his insides and soon, their laughter grew quiet, and the two of them drifted off for a nap. When they woke, Ellie’s mood had improved vastly, and Stephen was glad for it, but he was still curious as to why she thought that school stunk so much that day.

He couldn’t let it go. He nudged at her.

“Why were you so upset today?”

Ellie sighed, but didn’t push back or get angry. “I forgot my lunch and was hungry, and then the principal called my parents because I forgot it and I got in trouble.” Ellie paused, then clarified. “It was my fault.”

Stephen thought that he would also get upset if he didn’t get to eat lunch, but he wasn’t sure how forgetting her sandwich was enough to get her in trouble with her parents. Ellie’s parents seemed to be much more strict than Stephen’s mom, because she was always getting in trouble for little things. He felt bad.

“Are you still hungry?”

Ellie smiled softly, and Stephen raced towards the gooey feeling that seeped into his chest because of it. Her happiness was his favorite feeling to share. “No, George snuck me some of his dinner.”

“Good.” Stephen wanted her to remain happy, and he wanted to shift the conversation away to something less serious. “I can’t believe your imaginary school called your imaginary parents.”

Ellie laughed. He knew she would. He’d been saying some form of that sentence for two years now and Ellie always told him that he was silly. Stephen could almost feel Ellie turn over in bed. Her pillow was lumpy, and suddenly, Stephen didn’t know why he’d be so awful as to give his imaginary friend such a lumpy pillow. He thought that he would try to remember to imagine her up a softer one later because she deserved the softest pillows in the whole world.

He heard her sigh, not annoyed, just amused, and he knew what she was going to say next. “I’m not imaginary, Stephen.” That was Ellie’s constant answer to that accusation. “You’re the one who lives in my head.”

Stephen didn’t like when Ellie used his full name. He began to grow slightly petulant and needlessly argumentative. “ _Nuh uh_. Other way around, El.”

Ellie snorted and shook her head. It was hard to remain indignant and bothered when Stephen could feel her grin on his mouth. “Hard to believe that coming from the boy who lives in my head.”

Sometimes Stephen wished that his imaginary Ellie wasn’t as stubborn as he had made her. “ _Whatever_.”

Stephen didn’t like being thought of as imaginary. He disliked the idea so much that he began to get an anger headache.

Ellie interrupted before Stephen could say anything more. “I don’t feel good. I think I’m gonna go back to bed.”

All of Stephen’s anger dissipated and a pang of fear and sadness washed over him. “What’s wrong? Are you still hungry? I thought George gave you some of his dinner? Who sends someone to bed without dinner anyway? Did you only have breakfast today? Maybe if I just-”

“ _Stevie_ ,” Ellie interjected, and Stephen grew instantly quiet. “I just have a headache, that’s all.”

“ _Oh_.” He was relieved, yet sad. He tried to send comforting feelings her way, but she didn’t seem to respond to them.

"Can you just speak quieter?” Ellie paused. “Or not ask as many questions tonight?”

Stephen nodded, wallowing in the sadness of the girl in his head being in  _pain_ … Then it occurred to Stephen:  _the girl in his brain also had a headache_.

He supposed that it made sense for his imaginary headmate to be going through the same pain that he was experiencing, and he wasn’t necessarily happy that she was in pain, but he  _was_  happy that he wasn’t going through it alone. A jolt of excitement raced through the small boy, and he knew that Ellie probably felt it.

Because sharing emotions was one of the strongest aspects of their connection, Ellie asked, “Why are you so happy right now? What happened?”

“I have a headache right now, too.” Stephen answered, with an electrified grin.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Stephen said, casually. “I thought they had gone away, but I guess not.”

“ _Gone away_?” Ellie followed up, not sounding nearly as thrilled as Stephen. “Do you get them a lot?”

Stephen shrugged. He wasn’t going to let her bring down his good mood. “Used to. You?”

“I guess.” Ellie answered.

Stephen explained his ’ _Imaginary Headaches_ ’, as he grew to call them. They happened with a much greater frequency in the first year that Ellie was in his brain. He’d get one and soon after, Ellie would be around to talk to or reach out to. 

With time, the connection grew stronger, more stable, and Stephen didn’t have to wait for a headache to come in order to have Ellie chatting away in his mind. Soon, the headaches grew few and far between altogether.

Ellie grew silent, but Stephen could still feel her in his head, listening, absorbing, processing. “ _El_?” Stephen whispered, hesitantly. He felt her lean in to him more, a quiet nudge to go on with what he had to say. “I’m sorry. I know you asked me to quiet down because your head hurt, and instead, I talked too much.”

“It’s okay, Stevie.” Stephen grew deliriously happy over her nickname and the waves of reassurance that she sent out in his direction. He could still feel some lingering sadness though. “I just didn’t know that you got headaches as much as me.” She paused. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Stephen shrugged. “Was I supposed to tell you? I got them so often, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear about that every day.” Stephen thrummed his fingers on his stomach and stared up at his ceiling, the sun setting, casting shadows in his bedroom. “Plus, I figured the girl inside my head would be the first to know I was getting  _HEAD_ aches.”

“I’m not inside your head,  _Stephen_.” Ellie got distracted from what she had been upset about.

Stephen’s face contorted at Ellie saying his full name again. She knew he hated it when she did that. “Well you’re not inside my  _room_ ,  _Eleanor_.”

“Don’t call me ’ _Eleanor_ ’.” She sniped back.

Stephen’s mood soured quickly, and with his happiness disintegrating, all he could pay attention to was the dull throbbing in his skull and how argumentative his headmate was being. “You called me ’ _Stephen_ ’ first.”

Stephen heard Ellie huff and recoil from the connection.

Neither spoke for several minutes, but without fail, Stephen began to miss her. He waited, what he felt was, the appropriate amount of time for her to get over their small fight, and then tugged at her. She wasn’t far.

“ _Ellie_ ….”

A long pause made Stephen nervous, until he felt Ellie slide fully back into him. “Yeah?”

Stephen sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He let her waves of calmness wash over him.

“Are you okay?”

“Head still hurts. Does yours?” She asked.  

Stephen nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you think us talking is what gives us these headaches?” She asked, quiet and timid, a small swelling of fear settling in his stomach. Her fear and his own.

Stephen hadn’t thought of that for one minute,  _except_ , he had to have thought that at some point, down the line, or else his imaginary friend wouldn’t have ever thought to ask that question without his prompting, and  _really_ , it was all kind of complicated to explain how it was that Ellie seemed to know things he didn’t know, sometimes, or thought of things that he had never thought of. It was easier just to answer her question.

“Maybe.” Stephen replied.

Then, after a moment of reflection, Stephen began to worry that maybe if Ellie thought that the two of them talking gave both of them headaches, that she wouldn’t want to keep talking to him. He panicked, and added, quickly.

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence though.”

Ellie waited a moment, then took a deep breath and relaxed. Stephen settled back against his mattress once again. “You’re probably right.” He felt her smile. “You are the science dweeb after all.”

Stephen smiled too, regardless of the fact that the longer that they maintained the connection, that evening, the more it felt like someone was repeatedly throwing a basketball at his head. Stephen hoped that Ellie would stay close, despite them both being in pain. He thought that maybe the pain would somehow feel worse without her there. He wanted her there. He wished for it, but she was in  _Imaginary-Chicago_ , and he was in  _real-Southwestern Oregon,_  so, it could really only ever be a wish.

“Stevie,” Ellie broke his deep train of thought, with a tightness in her usually sweet voice. “I’ve gotta go. My head hurts too much. I’m gonna go to sleep.”

Stephen sighed. He was hesitant and sad. He really didn’t want her to go. “ _Okay_.” He relented.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Stephen pushed his face against his pillow more, hoping that maybe he could push hard enough and end up on her pillow, next to her head. “Promise?” He asked, unafraid of the possibility of rejection or Ellie finding him too clingy; those were concepts he didn’t yet know about.

Ellie giggled softly and then let the connection flicker for a moment. “I promise, Stevie.” She said, gently, before it fizzled out altogether. He knew she had probably fallen asleep.

“Who’re you in here chatting up a storm with, handsome?”

Stephen’s head turned too quickly, and because of the fast movement and his headache, he saw stars. He covered his eyes with his hands and sat up. Quickly, he felt his mother’s hand sweeping through his long, straight brown locks. Then he felt the comfort of a warm kiss pressed upon the top of his head. He leaned into his mother’s warmth, as she sat on the edge of his bed.

“Ellie.” Stephen replied casually, still covering his eyes.

“Are you upset?” Stephen’s mother asked.

Stephen’s head was only now starting to cease its spinning. “No.”

“Then why are you covering your eyes?” His mother pulled, gently, at his little hands, in order to look at his face.

“I have a headache.” He explained. “Ellie does too, that’s why she just went to bed.”

“Well, she had the right idea, I think.” Stephen’s mother, replied, with a soft smile, as she got up to shut off the light. She came back to sit next to him, and run her fingers through his hair, once again. He relished in the comfort. He wished Ellie was still there, in case she could feel the head massage too. “You know, you probably have a headache because you’re always up all night talking, instead of sleeping, like other growing boys.”

Stephen shrugged. He only stayed up really late when Ellie didn’t want to talk while at school or one of them had a really interesting story. “I’m still growing.”

“Right, well, next time I see Ellie, I’ll have to tell her to let you get your rest so you can grow more.”

Stephen sat up in bed, startled. “You’ve  _seen_  Ellie?!” He asked with unabashed excitement, his little heart suddenly beating overtime in his chest.

His mother gently guided him back against his pillow and tousled his hair. “Of course, I see her when you invite her over for dinner and when the two of you play in the park.”

Stephen sighed, frustrated, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ellie is not  _imaginary_ , Mom.”

“Okay, honey. You’re right. I forgot. I’m sorry.”

He grimaced at her for another moment, and then acquiesced, shrugging. “It’s okay. It’s easy to forget when you don’t get to talk to her, but she  _is_  real.”

His mother nodded and smiled. “Yes, she is, and she is asleep, so you should be too.”

“Okay.” Stephen nodded and moved around under his covers until he was comfortable.

“Goodnight, little dreamer. No talking to Ellie until the morning, got it?” She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.

“Got it.” Stephen yawned. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey.”

Stephen heard his bedroom door click closed and he thought about the exchange he had just had with his mother. Just because he thought, occasionally, that Ellie was imaginary, didn’t mean that other people weren’t allowed to think she was anything but real.

She was real to him, and he adored her with every fiber of his tiny being. The idea that she could actually be imaginary, led to the idea that she could disappear, and that was unacceptable to Stephen.

He fell asleep, thinking about how warm Ellie made him feel earlier when she laughed at his jokes.

* * *

* * *

A few months after her eleventh birthday, Stephen and Ellie both got awful headaches again. She went to bed early and he tried to follow suit.

Stephen reached out a few times throughout the night, his headache making it impossible for him to fall asleep, but he couldn’t feel her, at all. It  _wasn’t_  like she didn’t exist, he could always feel a subtle vibration that meant that Ellie was still around, somewhere out there, but he just couldn’t seem to make the connection work.

Stephen tried to bury his concerns and rationalize it all as Ellie just being in a very deep sleep, the idea of which made him happy because it meant that her headache wasn’t nearly as bad as his was, and if he could pick, he’d always rather have the worst headache of the two them. 

He didn’t like the idea of Ellie ever being in pain.

He stayed home from school, his headache proving to be particularly unrelenting, having kept him awake all night long. Stephen reached out as soon as the hour was right, and he knew she had to be awake for school, but he was met with silence. He couldn’t begin to hide his disappointment and how it soured his already crummy mood.

His mother was worried about his headache, but it was the fact that Ellie wasn’t around  _at all_  that worried Stephen. He reached out over and over, throughout the day, and still got no response.

Once school was out, and Stephen was still unable to tug Ellie back to him, he became frantic and panicked. He told his mother as much, and she simply told him not to worry, to try to sleep, and that that was probably what Ellie was doing.

Stephen didn’t understand why his mother seemed to brush off his fears about Ellie possibly being hurt  _or worse_ , somewhere in Chicago, and that he needed to help, so he spied on her, waiting to see if she would talk to anyone about him.

 _His mother did_. About an hour after she told him to go back to bed, a couple of hours before dinnertime, Stephen heard his mom get on the phone with his aunt.

“Oh, I think they’re just headaches cause he’s not getting enough sleep; you know, just growing pains.” She explained, to the person over the phone. “He’s asleep now, but he’s been upset all day because he says that his imaginary friend won’t talk to him. I think he’s finally realizing that he’s getting too old for that sort of thing and it’s his way of letting go of her;” She paused for a second. “at least, that’s what Stephen’s pediatrician said when I called and asked.”

Stephen backed, carefully and quietly, into his room. He could feel his anger consuming him, radiating from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes. His mother thought he was crazy or childish. She didn’t believe that Ellie was real. Stephen seethed over the thought for several minutes, until doubt began to set in.

Ellie hadn’t spoken to him all day, regardless of how hard he pulled at her, how desperately he reached out. Stephen began to wonder if he really had just dreamt up Ellie the whole time; if he had been talking to himself for years. 

No wonder his mother thought he was nutty.

He sighed and crawled into bed, sullen and defeated.

Finally, Stephen let himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

Suddenly, Stephen’s senses went haywire, like a pinball machine lighting up when a new high score was achieved. He was thrown back into the waking world by the feeling of Ellie reaching for him, calling out to him.

He didn’t respond, still sleepily confused. Stephen scanned around the room, searching for Ellie, having just dreamt that he was with her up at Cannon Beach, in Northern Oregon.

Stephen quickly realized it was simply a dream, and then remained quiet, non-responsive, because he was still somewhat annoyed that he had been left alone all day after she had promised that she’d talk to him, if he still wasn’t feeling well when he woke up. 

He’d missed Ellie and he’d worried about her, and he’d wanted to tell her about all of the cartoons that he got to watch that afternoon instead of going to school.

But Ellie had abandoned him. She hadn’t reached out. She had cut him off, somehow, and Stephen was upset.

Finally, he felt Ellie reach for him again, and then he heard her soft, excited voice, trying to remain calm and subdued, but failing miserably.  _Stevie_.

Stephen thought that Ellie sounded dreamy and close, and he swore that he could almost feel her sitting next to him, whispering his name directly into his ear.

Stubborn as ever, Stephen remained silent, trying to hold on to his petulant grudge, but Ellie whispered his name again.  _Stevie_.

Stephen sighed, hoping she could hear his frustration. “Yeah?”

A few moments of silence past, before Ellie replied. _Yeah, what?_

Stephen contorted his face and cocked his head back. ’ _Yeah, what_?’ What did that mean? Why was she being so weird and annoying? Ellie had said  _his_  name, and when he replied,  _she_  acted surprised. It wasn’t him, who had been a ghost all day. Why would she reach out to then not apologize or, at least, try to start up a conversation?

Stephen replied with a purposeful moodiness to his voice, wanting to make his displeasure in her behavior known. “You said my name. What do you want?”

“I didn’t say your name,” Ellie replied with obvious confusion, that quickly turned to sadness. “and why are you being mean?  _You_ … you sound upset.”

Now, Stephen was really getting aggravated with her. She had  _literally_  said his name  _twice_ , and now she was denying saying it at all? He growled quietly. Was this some sort of game that only she knew they were playing? Was she making fun of him? Stephen didn’t particularly like being teased.

Besides, Stephen thought, the girl inside his head was supposed to be nice to him  _always_ , she certainly wasn’t supposed to tease him.

“What are you talking about? You did say my name. You said it twice!” He raised his voice, briefly, but then felt the shooting pain of exertion, throbbing in his temples, and he laid back against his pillow once more.

There was a slight pause on Ellie’s end. Stephen could almost feel the cogs turning in her mind. Then, her voice came as a whisper in Stephen’s ears.

 _You heard me say your name?_  Ellie asked.

Stephen was officially at his wits end, and raised his voice again. “ **YES**!” He panted with pure anger in his chest, and he let the floodgate of questions open. “What’s wrong with you? Where’ve you been all day? Have you been ignoring me or blocking me out? Why are you acting so strange, and why do you sound so weird?”

Stephen ran out of questions to ask, and a short silence filled his room and his brain.

Just as he was about to tell her to just leave him alone for the night, Ellie spoke again.

 _I didn’t say your name_.

Stephen threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. Now he felt like he really, really was going crazy. “Yes, you did!” He tried not to shout, afraid his mother would come in and think he was truly insane.

 _Can you hear me now?_  Ellie sounded awed.

Stephen was the exact opposite of amazed. “ **Obviously**.” He replied, curtly.

 _I’m not talking_. Ellie told him.

“Yes, you are. What is wrong with you right now, El?” Stephen couldn’t help but let some of his anger subside, in order to make room for the concern that was creeping into his throat.

_No, I mean, I didn’t say your name out loud. I was just thinking it; I was thinking about you during dinner, and you heard me._

Stephen didn’t really understand what Ellie meant, so he stayed quiet.

 _Can you still hear me?_  She asked.

Stephen was mostly just confused at this point. What did she mean she hadn’t said his name? He’d heard her clearer than ever before. “ **Yes** , I can hear you. You’re talking to me, of course I can hear you.” Stephen replied, exasperated.

Stephen could feel the dull vibration of Ellie’s excitement, humming low in his stomach; it made even more of the anger inside of him dissolve.

 _I’m not talking out loud right now. I’m just laying in bed thinking about what I would say if I were to talk_.

“But I can hear you.” Stephen clarified, only beginning to understand what it was that Ellie was saying. He wasn’t sure if he liked this.

 _Yeah, you can. This is so cool, Stevie. Oh my gosh_. Ellie was practically buzzing with excitement and energy.  _Can you do it?_  She asked.

“I don’t know.” Stephen didn’t like that the girl inside his head could do something that he couldn’t. They were supposed to be equals and they were supposed to share everything. That was the rule that they had made up in the beginning. “How are you doing it?” He inquired, curiously.

 _I don’t know._  She paused.  _I guess, I’m just thinking about you and what I want to say and you’re hearing me._  She admitted.

“That’s not very helpful, El.” Stephen complained. “You’re just thinking about me?”

 _Yea_. She spoke in a soft, sweet and gentle tone, everything that Stephen had been missing throughout the day; it softened Stephen a bit more.  _I was missing you and I wanted to talk to you_.

Stephen couldn’t help how Ellie’s words filled his chest with warmth and happiness. He didn’t try to hide it, he never did. She made him happy and he always wanted her to know that.

Ellie kept talking though.  _My dad was yelling at us, during dinner, and I was just tuning him out, and thinking about you, and how I couldn’t wait for everyone to go to sleep so that I could sneak into the kitchen to talk to you._

Stephen sometimes forgot that Ellie shared a bedroom with her older sister. So more times than not, Ellie fell asleep on the couch in the living room, or the floor in the kitchen, after spending half the night talking to him. He always wished that he could share his room with her. He was certain that she could sleep in his bed, with him, until his mom could buy Ellie her own proper bed; then they could have sleepovers night after night after night. That would be Stephen’s dream come true. Ellie always said it would be hers, as well.

 _I just kept saying your name over and over and over, in my head, and then you heard me_. Ellie sighed, still sounding dreamy and happy and wonderfully close.

Stephen contemplated all this new information for a moment. He had missed Ellie all day. He had said her name, both in his head and out loud, all day. He had reached for her all day, but she hadn’t heard him.

 _Come on, Stevie, try it_. She insisted, once more.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I can do it.” He didn’t want to try and not be able to. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

 _Please? For me_. She begged, unabashed and unapologetic in asking for what she wanted.

“Okay….” Stephen finally gave in.

He thought about Ellie long and hard, focusing on nothing more than her presence and the memory of her voice. He thought about how he wanted her to hear him more than anything else in that moment. He pictured the girl that lived in his head, letting his thoughts drift off to the ways in which she had described herself: a thin, lithe frame, short, with light chocolate brown hair, like his, but more red in the summer. He thought of her piercing blue eyes, ‘not murky, like Lake Michigan’, she’d always say. He thought of her rounded nose and protruding cheekbones, and her slightly tan, yet more olive toned skin. He thought about the way she’d described her stubby fingers. He thought of how he wanted to slip his growing fingers in between hers. He thought of her and he said her name in his mind.

“Did you hear that?”

 _What_? Ellie asked.

“I said your name.” Stephen explained.

 _Oh_. Ellie sounded disappointed.  _No, but maybe try again. Think hard_.

Now Stephen was getting frustrated and annoyed again.  _I am thinking hard._  He huffed to himself.

 _I know you are, but just.. try_. Ellie asked, sweetly.

 _Wait, you.. did you hear that? Can you hear me?_  Stephen thought, his frustration leaving to make room for his hope.

“Did you think that or did you say that?” Ellie finally spoke out loud, and suddenly, Stephen could really tell the difference.

“I was thinking it, and you heard me, right?” Stephen was jumping up and down on his bed now.

“I heard you.” Ellie spoke aloud, barely containing her excitement.

 _This is amazing!_  Stephen shouted in his head.  _Did you hear that_?

Ellie giggled and Stephen could feel her grin.  _Yes, Stevie, I heard that. I can hear you._

Stephen stopped jumping on his bed, surprised that his mother hadn’t burst through his door to chastise him about the possibility of falling off and getting hurt. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly at the ends.  _This feels amazing._  Stephen was well past content.  _You can hear me talking to you, but I’m not saying anything out loud_.

 _Yeah_. Ellie laughed again.

 _We can be as loud as we want now and no one can hear us but us._ Stephen was practically buzzing with excitement.

 _That does sound pretty good._  Ellie admitted, not bouncing off the walls, but Stephen could still feel her enthusiasm, and more importantly, her rising warmth. He bathed in it.

 _This is so cool_ , Stephen began.  _you can help me on my English and Social Studies tests now and I can help you in math and science and we can talk while we’re at school and, oh man_ , Stephen was going a mile a minute.  _this is the greatest._

 _Oh, you only like this because now I can help you cheat on tests._ Ellie laughed.

Stephen shook his head and curled up against his crumpled up sheets.  _That’s just an extra awesome thing, I’m most excited to talk to you all day._

Ellie paused. She wasn’t as quick to be open and emotional as Stephen was.  _I’m most excited about that too_. She admitted, quietly.

She wasn’t as quick to openly lay all her feelings on the table for Stephen to dissect and decipher, but Stephen rarely held himself back from her. She almost always knew when he was lying because she could feel pretty much everything he felt, and Stephen was all raw emotions, at all times.

He and Ellie continued conversing, using only their minds, well into the late hours of the night. She explained that she had a headache all day too and felt blocked from him as well, and Thomas theorized that it was their connection developing. Ellie said that it felt worth it to be kept from him all day if this was the outcome. Stephen mulled her happiness over repeatedly throughout the night.

Pretty quickly, both of their heads began to throb in pain. Ellie said she was willing to ignore it to keep talking, too excited and happy about the new development to break the connection and go to sleep yet. Eventually, she did fall asleep though. Stephen wondered if she drifted off first because she was talking to him in her own bed for once. The thought made him feel good.

The whole thing made him feel good. He stayed up all night, too wired and excited to sleep. This new way of being was everything to him.

More than that, though, Ellie was everything to him.

* * *

* * *

* * *

**ALSO**! Because I am me and consistency is key,  **my chapter titles will have a theme** , as always, this series theme is  **song titles**  that have something to do with the fic. “ _[I’m Not Crying. You’re Not Crying, Are You?](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DELhLUeRSzdQ&t=YjQzNGZlM2QwNTY5NGI0YmQ1NDQ1ZGMxYjNmOWJjNTc5NDhlMTM5ZSxCZ0hTS09ZMw%3D%3D&b=t%3AwUX1Lq2S9x8l4UbM8Jaoig&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwere-cheetah-stiles.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F172883438422%2Fthe-ties-that-bind-chapter-1-thomas-the&m=1)_ ” is a phenomenal song by  **Dear and the Headlights**. 

 


	2. I Can Feel Your Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Ellie experience many changes during the year when the solar flares reach Earth’s surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Allusions to abuse, violence, puberty, weird growing up stuff. This chapter is a hellscape.
> 
>  
> 
> THIS CHAPTER SUCKS. to read. because it’s sad. and awkward. and gloomy. Twelve was not a good year for either of them.... On a more serious note, there are a lot of heavy and strange themes in this chapter. Stuff I haven’t touched upon before. The parts where Stephen and Ellie’s real and imaginary bodies are changing are not meant to be sexualized and are not meant to be creepy or odd, they are just meant to be an honest portrayal of how our bodies change, and how those changes are different and confusing and hard to understand for kids, especially when it hasn’t been explained properly. A lot of this was inspired by the original source material. I also think it was done better in the source material, but the dynamics are so different that it had to be changed vastly. Also, you know, i’m trying not to just straight up plagiarize the source material. Anyway, lots and lot of thanks to @ellie-bee242 for helping me to get sections of this done the right way. what an angel to put up with me and my weirdness.

In January of the year that the solar flares scorched the Earth, Stephen woke up at midnight, his time, because Ellie was incessantly tugging at his consciousness. He turned over in bed, as if the girl that lived in his head, for the past four years, would be waiting on the other side of his pillow. He kept his eyes shut tight and pretended that she was there.

“What are you doing awake?” He whispered, groggily, still too asleep to make their all but perfected think-to-talk skill work.

Stephen couldn’t help but smile, lazily and languidly, when he felt how Ellie was like a happy bundle of energy in the pit of his stomach. Anticipation and joy and something resembling love poured out of Ellie and poured into Stephen and he happily waded through each emotion.

 _Are you okay?_  He asked in his head, before Ellie could answer his first question.

 _I’m fine_. Ellie replied.  _I stayed up so that I could be the first one to wish you a happy birthday at midnight. So am I the first one this year_? Ellie wondered.

Stephen was elated. He balled up the blankets covering him, in his fists, channeling all his excited energy into twisting the life out of his sheets. He sighed, happily, and wished desperately that Ellie could be real. That was all he wanted for his birthday, just for Ellie to exist in a way that Stephen could hug her and touch her and see her.

 _You’re the first one_. He was unashamed in his giddiness. It matched the feeling that was seeping out of her and into him.

 _Good_. She thought.  _Happy birthday, Stevie_.

Stephen sunk his face into his pillow, letting his breath grow shallow and desperate. He was trying to cover up the feeling that was clawing at his stomach. Want. As Stephen got older, the feeling for Ellie grew. 

He wanted to be closer to her. He wanted to touch her hand and touch her cheek. He wanted to talk to her constantly. He wanted to feel everything she felt. He wanted to hear her say his name the way she just had. It made his head a little dizzy and his neck a little red and warm.

He turned his face to the side and allowed fresh air to reach his lungs. He breathed it in deeply, then exhaled and let it all return to normal. The feeling had, for the most part, passed. 

 _Thanks, Elliebean_. He smiled thought with a genuine kindness to the voice that he sent off to echo in her ears.  _I can’t believe you stayed up so late. We have school tomorrow and it’s two in the morning there_.

He felt Ellie shrug. They were both getting much better and the think-to-talk and the feeling each other physically thing. Overall, the connection had strengthened even more, and happily, for both parties, the headaches had pretty much disappeared.

 _No big deal_. She thought, nonchalantly.  _You’d do it for me_.

Stephen thought that that was very true.

 _So, how’s twelve feel_? She pushed him to tell her.

 _Very grown up. I think I’m ready to drive a car and buy a house now._ Stephen thought, trying to make his thinking voice deeper and more mature sounding.

 _Would you drive to come get me_? Ellie asked.

Stephen closed his eyes and thought of what it would be like to sit in such a small enclosed space with Ellie. The idea made his toes curl. He nodded.  _And I’d bring you back here and we’d live in my big house together with my mom and… I’d get us all a dog_.

A quiet giggle echoed inside of Stephen’s head and it made him feel like he was melting into his mattress.

 _I wish_.

 _When I blow out my birthday candles after dinner tomorrow, that’s what I’m going to wish for_. Stephen whispered.

 _Do you think that actually works_? Ellie asked.

Stephen yawned, then tugged Ellie closer with his mind. Her soft voice and warm essence were slowly lulling him back to sleep. She happily stumbled towards him. 

He  _wished_ … 

He wished his usual wish. 

He wished she was there. 

Stephen had thought about what it would be like to hold Ellie’s hand or hug her, and as he got older, occasionally he would even think about what it would be like to kiss her, but for the most part, his desire to have Ellie around was pure and innocent.

She brought him comfort. She understood him. She made him happy. She made him feel safe. He simply wanted to be next to her. He wanted more.

So, he pulled her closer the only way he could, and she curled up in his warmth. This was the best birthday present he could ask for. “I hope it works. You belong here with me.”

Stephen felt a jumble of confusing feelings, come on too quickly and fizzling out just as fast. He wasn’t fast enough to figure out what they were. Sometimes Ellie’s feelings were much less straightforward than his and they took him time to understand, and even then, a lot of the time, he just couldn’t comprehend. But he understood the end product of her jumble of feelings:  _contentment_.

 _You have to go back to sleep, Elliebelly_. Stephen whispered, drowsily.

 _I guess_. Ellie drawled.

 _I’ll stay close by if you do_. Stephen hoped she’d agree.

 _Okay_. He felt her smile.  _Night, Stevie. Happy birthday._

 _Night, El_.

* * *

* * *

In February of the year that the solar flares ravaged every point between the Tropic of Capricorn and the Tropic of Cancer, leaving behind few survivors and even fewer livable places, Ellie and Stephen got the worst headache either of them had gotten yet.

Nothing came of the intense pain, at least nothing obvious to Stephen. They weren’t blocked from each other and they couldn’t speak in new ways, but Stephen did suppose he could feel Ellie a bit more clearly.

His favorite new event was when Ellie’s older sister would comb out and braid Ellie’s hair after a shower. Stephen loved the way that the bristles ran across Ellie’s head and bled into his scalp. He told Ellie this once and found that she would spend a superfluous amount of time brushing her hair. It made him feel happy that she did things just so he could feel good.

She told him once that she could feel him scratching a spider bite, on his shin, and so Stephen became acutely aware that maybe it wasn’t all one sided. It made him worry about whether or not she could feel the new thoughts that were running through his head, with the emergence of what his mother disdainfully called ’ _hormones_ ’.

Stephen woke up one morning, well before he had to get up to get dressed for school, feeling flushed and uncomfortable. He hated mornings like this. Parts of him were different, more awake than they used to be and frankly, he didn’t really know what to do about them. He wanted to tell Ellie, see if she’d have advice, but there was an inherent shame that, he didn’t quite understand either, kept him from doing so.

Eventually, Stephen figured out how to make his unwanted morning guest disappear, and frankly, he didn’t mind the process all that much. Usually, it felt pretty good, but he didn’t like that he was trying to keep it from Ellie. He didn’t understand why it felt like something he should hide, but when he asked his friend, Greg, from school, if he knew anything about it, Greg simply told Stephen, ’ _It’s only what boys do_.’. 

So, Stephen made it a secret. His first secret from the girl who lived inside his head.

Or, at least, he tried to keep it a secret.  

One morning, in early March, after he got out of his morning shower and was getting dressed for school, Ellie popped back into head after being notably distant.

 _Hey_. She thought.

 _Hey, what class are you in_?

History. Mr. Skolnick is rambling on about something about what America used to be like back when he was our age, like, a hundred years ago.

Stephen snickered and shook his head, before pulling a crisp blue t-shirt out of his dresser and yanking it on over his still wet hair.  _Grown ups are so weird_. He lamented, garnering a hum of agreement from Ellie.  _Where’ve you been all morning? You usually say hi first thing when I wake up_.

He felt Ellie shrug, then rest her head in her arms, on what he assumed was an imaginary desk. He caught a wave of meekness. Ellie’s, not his.  _I did reach out when you woke up but you were distracted and you felt weird, so, I just left you alone_.

Stephen didn’t understand. He had woken up thinking of Ellie, wishing he could talk to her. He had reached out and felt her on the periphery, when he  _realized_ …

 _Oh_. Stephen’s face flushed the hottest red he’d ever felt. His hands got clammy and a real sense of shame overtook him. His, not Ellie’s.  _I.. I felt weird_?

 _Yeah. I thought maybe you were sick for a minute, but then it.. I don’t know, it felt weird_.

Against Stephen’s better judgement, and despite his fear of ruining something so good and pure with Ellie, he asked her to explain what she felt. She told him, and it was everything he had been trying to hide.

Then, to Stephen’s complete mortification, Ellie had told him that she had felt him do it before.

 _I didn’t mean to. It was sort of, like, the connection wouldn’t let me leave you alone. I’m sorry_. Ellie sounded close to tears, her throat was tight and her face was burning hot.

Stephen was shaking with embarrassment. _It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m.. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to feel that_.

 _What.. what is it anyway_? Stephen realized that Ellie really didn’t understand.

He shrugged.  _I don’t know_. 

He  _did_  know. Greg had explained a bit more to him, mostly what Greg’s older brother had told him. He didn’t quite understand it himself, still, since, besides Ellie and his mom, Stephen still thought girls were kind of stupid and weird, but Greg insisted that Stephen was steadily becoming obsessed with them and it was his body’s way of dealing with it… or, at least, that’s what Greg’s brother had said.

Stephen wondered if Ellie could tell he was lying when he said he didn’t know what he was doing. If she could, she hadn’t said anything. He was grateful for that. He was also more than ready for this particular conversation to be over. He took a deep breath and tried to get his erratic emotions under control.

 _Um, can you make me a brain pinky promise_? Stephen asked, quiet and trying to mask his fear.

Ellie giggled and it honestly helped him feel a bit calmer, less miserable.  _Whatever you want, Stevie_.

 _If it happens, tell me immediately and I’ll make sure it stops. I’ll stop it and we won’t have to talk about it again_.

Stephen could feel Ellie’s hesitance, her struggling to understand why he was so freaked out over this whole event.  _…Okay. I’ll tell you_. She promised.

It happened a few more times, and Stephen stopped it each time she said something. Then it stopped happening. She stopped feeling it. Or maybe she stopped telling him. He did act weird the rest of the day, on the days that it did happen, and he frankly, wouldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid that.

Either way, he was just grateful they didn’t have to talk about it again.

* * *

* * *

March, in the year of the solar flares, was not a good month for Ellie or Stephen. Stephen was in gym class one day, racing around the track with a few of the boys in his grade, when he suddenly felt a searing, agonizing, brutally hot, yet icily cold pain in his left shoulder. On his left shoulder. Yet, not his left shoulder. 

Ellie’s left shoulder.

He felt to the track and cried, a small crowd forming around him, trying to decipher how he had hurt himself. But there was nothing visible, no marks or scratches to indicate what his injury was; but he felt it.

As he sat in the nurses office, waiting for his mom to come pick him up, he reached out to Ellie. She was distant and hard to tug on, but she came when he called.

 _I can’t do this right now, Stephen_. She sounded upset and stern, older than she ever had before.

 _What’s going on? Are you okay? I felt you get hurt? What the heck was that_? Stephen barraged the girl in his head with questions, ignoring her comment that she didn’t have time for him. He wanted answers.

 _You.. you felt that?_  Whatever part of her voice that made her sound sure and serious before, was now replaced with something that made her sound small and scared.

 ** _YES_**! Stephen yelled in his head, frustrated with her lack of answers. He just wanted to know what was going on.  _I was running around the track and then I felt whatever that was and I fell and I scraped my knee and my hands and everyone was staring at me like I was crazy._

 _You felt that but I didn’t feel you fall_? Ellie asked him.

He was getting very agitated over the fact that she was asking more questions than him at this point.  _ **Yes**! Now, what was that_?

 _Nothing_. She was quick to reply.

 _It wasn’t nothing, Ellie. I felt it_. Stephen shot back.

 _I.. I burnt myself on the stove and it was an accident. I’m so sorry you felt it_.

Stephen crinkled his nose and stared at the poster of the human skeleton on the wall opposite him.  _You burnt your shoulder_? That seemed like a funny place to get a burn.

 _Yeah, it was a.. um, a pot handle_.

Stephen felt something foreign in his stomach. He picked it apart until he thought he could tell what it was.  _Are you lying to me_?

Ellie’s presence flickered for barely a second, but Stephen felt it disappear then return.  _No. I’m just busy_. Ellie explained.  _Distracted. Stevie, I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to go_.

Before Stephen could protest, Ellie was gone. She had shut him out, recoiled from their link.

* * *

That wasn’t the last time that Stephen felt that particular pain. It sometimes happened on Ellie’s back, sometimes on her thigh, sometimes stomach. Stephen truly did not understand how it was that she could be so clumsy as to get burns in such odd places but he had thoroughly advised her to stay away from the kitchen from then on.

 _My mom will do the cooking when I bring you to live with us_. Stephen once told her.

He felt her smile, somewhat melancholy, but he clawed at the feeling regardless.  _That sounds really nice, Stevie_. Ellie replied.

* * *

It was around then that Stephen found that Ellie had been playing pretty harshly with her two older siblings more often. She talked about a slapping game that they had been playing, that literally sounded like the exact opposite of fun to Stephen, and he frankly wished they would stop because it always made his cheek sore too.

On nights when they played, Ellie would curl up as close as she could manage to Stephen, through the connection, and would play with her hair. He understood that it was her way of apologizing for getting him hurt. Even though, she’d spend the day apologizing for him getting hurt, in the first place. He didn’t quite understand why if she was so sorry about it, and she didn’t really like playing the slapping game, why she kept taking part in it.

Stephen decided he just couldn’t understand because he didn’t have siblings, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily like Ellie’s brother and sister as much anymore.

In the end of March, three weeks before Ellie’s twelfth birthday, while Stephen was eating dinner at the table with his mom, he felt an incredibly harsh smack land across his cheek. It stung worse than anything he’d ever felt before. He let out a loud yelp and his mother rushed to his side.

 _Ellie, what the heck? I thought you were going to stop playing the_ -

Stephen was cut off when he felt a hard yank of his hair. He fell out of his chair and onto the floor. It wasn’t his hair. It was Ellie’s hair. “ **OW**!” He yelled, as his mother ran around the table to see what was going on. “ **WHAT’S GOING ON?** ” He yelled again, in too much pain to use the think-to-talk.

Stephen surged forward and clutched at his stomach when he felt a deliberate blow be delivered, with what felt like a boot, to his abdomen. He was sobbing in pain. Another, less rough but still painful, kick struck him in the ribs. He reached out to Ellie.

 _Are you fighting right now? Hit them back! Hit them back!_  He yelled in his head. There was no response.  _Ellie_.. That was the last thing that Stephen said before he felt something hit him in the face so hard, that he passed out. 

When he came to, he was in his bed. He had no recollection of how he got there, but his face, his stomach, his ribs, pretty much all of his body ached and throbbed. He wallowed in his pain for a few minutes, until he lifted his shirt to look for bruises. 

There were none.

Then Stephen remembered that it wasn’t really his pain he was feeling, or at least, it wasn’t  _only_  his pain that he was feeling, and he began to shake. His dissent into emotion came on so quickly that even he had a hard time picking each apart. Fear, anger, annoyance, worry, confusion, anxiety,  _fear, fear, fear, fear_.

Stephen needed to hear from her. He reached out, but he knew he wasn’t going to get a response. He could barely feel her at all. She was a small flicker of light in the darkness that spread out between their minds. The flicker wasn’t strong enough to grab at though.

 _Ellie_? He tried anyway.

Then he heard a soft rapping on his door frame. “Honey?”

Stephen saw the concern on his mother’s face and immediately began to cry, feeling safe enough in her presence to unleash every emotion that flooded his chest just moments before. “ _Mom_ ,” Stephen slurred between sobs. “Ellie..  _we_.. she’s  _hurt_ … we have to…  _we_   _have_   _to_.. we have..” He could barely catch his breath.

His mother’s face was contorted in confusion and what Stephen could confuse with anger. “What about Ellie?”

Stephen tried to stop the tears and catch his breath. Neither worked. “She’s hurt.  _Someone_.. Someone hurt her… I.. I.. I could, could feel it.” His tears streamed down his warm little face and dripped onto his sheets. He didn’t even try to wipe them away. He just let them fall. He felt wholly ineffectual in that moment. 

“We have to help her.” He added.

Stephen’s mother tried to wipe the tears off of Stephen’s cheeks, but pressed her fingers a little too hard into his tender skin, or Ellie’s tender skin,  _or something_. It hurt. It made Stephen cry harder. He recoiled from her touch and curled up in a ball instead.

“I don’t understand, Stephen. Ellie isn’t real. No one is hurting her because she is just a part of your imagination. I’m not worried about her, I’m worried about  _you_.”

“ ** _MOM_**!” Stephen yelled, before crying even harder. Unintelligible words were all that followed before Stephen shut down from speaking to his only parent anymore. He reached out to Ellie, but still, there was nothing.

“Stephen..  _Stephen Joseph_ , look at me.” That was the stern voice that he knew he was supposed to listen to. Stephen looked up at his mother’s blurry, mean face. “We’re going to go to the doctor tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

Maybe he should’ve been listening, Stephen thought to himself. He didn’t want to go to the doctor. He wanted to go to Chicago and knock on every single apartment door until he found Ellie. He wanted to get her away from her horrible brother and sister. He wanted to protect her.

He shook his head, adamantly, and banged his tiny fists against his mattress. “ **I’M NOT SICK, MOM**!”

“Maybe not, but it’s not normal to do what you did at dinner tonight, so we’re going to the doctor tomorrow, no arguing.”

Stephen tried to, kicking and screaming and crying, but his mother didn’t relent. They were going to see his doctor in the morning whether he wanted to or not. Eventually, she left him alone to go to sleep, after he’d finally worn himself out and settled down.

A new emotion seeped into Stephen’s chest:  _disappointment_. 

Disappointment over the fact that his own mother didn’t believe him when he swore that Ellie was real and that she needed his help. Disappointment that Ellie was not there for him to curl in to. Disappointment that she had horrible siblings and awful parents who let her get hurt.

Stephen fell asleep feeling nothing short of miserable.

In the morning, his doctor found nothing obviously physically or mentally wrong with the young boy, and told Stephen’s mother to bring him back if it ever happened again. She cried in the car outside of their small house and made him promise that he didn’t believe in Ellie anymore, that he was just making it up. Stephen said all that with his fingers crossed behind his back, because he wasn’t making Ellie up, she  _was_  real. She had to be real or else he really was crazy, and he didn’t  _feel_  crazy.

Ellie came back the next day, casual, calm and clear. 

Stephen went off on her and how he had been worried sick and how his mother thought he was insane and how he had felt every single blow that Ellie received. She got smaller and quieter, and Stephen got less angry with each step she took away from their connection.

 _I’m sorry_. He hadn’t heard her sound that much like a small child in years. It made him feel awful.

He wasn’t mad at her..  _Okay_ , he was a  _little_   _mad_  at her, but mostly, he was angry at the whole situation. He told her that. He told her how he just wanted to protect her. He told her how he wanted his mom to believe him when he told her that Ellie was real. He told her how he wanted her siblings to be nicer to her or at least for her to learn how to fight back better.

 _I’m fine. It was just rough housing taken too far. You don’t need to worry so much_. Ellie explained, and for the second time, Stephen was pretty sure she was lying. He didn’t know what about. Before he could ask, she was apologizing profusely, and her misery seeped into his throat and stomach.  _I’m so sorry that you could feel all of that though… I’m so sorry. I.. I’ll try to make sure you can’t feel it next time it happens_.

Stephen cocked his head back at that comment.  _That’s not what I meant_.

 _I’m sorry_. She said almost automatically. Stephen thought Ellie sounded like a broken record.

 _For what_? He asked.

Ellie paused for a moment before she whispered, quietly, for only him to hear, although, part of Stephen wondered if even  _he_  was meant to hear it.  _For all of it. For getting you hurt and upset. I’m sorry. I swear it won’t happen again. I’ll make sure you won’t get hurt again because of me_.

 _I don’t care if I get hurt, El_! Stephen shouted in his thoughts, exasperated with how Ellie was acting. She was being so weird and he didn’t like it.  _I want to feel it if you’re getting hurt, I don’t want you to be alone, but_ -

Ellie cut him off.  _Okay, I won’t shut it out. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to talk about this anymore, alright? It’s giving me a headache_.

Stephen sighed. He was sort of getting a headache too.  _Fine_ , He thought.  _just fight back next time, okay? Or run and get one of your parents_.

Ellie laughed, humorless, short and silent.  _Okay_.

He felt her pull away. “Don’t.” He said out loud, without thinking.

Ellie stilled then slowly returned to Stephen. She said nothing, simply hovered on the boundaries of his mind.

Stephen tugged lightly at her again until she fell back towards him.  _Don’t leave again. I missed you_. Stephen still had no issues laying it all out on the line for Ellie to see. He knew she could feel it all anyway, so he saw no point in lying to her. Plus, now with his mother officially thinking he was insane, Ellie was the only person that Stephen felt like he could fully be himself with.

 _I missed you too._  She whispered, barely audible, into his head.

 _Then stay here the rest of the night_. Stephen was truly unashamed to beg.

Stephen felt her nod, so he curled up in his bed, settling in with his headmate for the remainder of his waking hours.

* * *

April went by with very few issues, but Stephen could tell that Ellie was still tip-toeing around him. She was getting very good at keeping him at a distance or pulling away when she wanted to. He told her he didn’t like that one bit, and she denied doing it, but he knew what he was feeling, and he was feeling Ellie grow distant.

He hated it.

Ellie turned twelve in May and Stephen was a bundle of joy the entire day, excited that she was finally his age again. Her birthday fell on a Sunday and so, void of having anywhere that either of them had to go, Stephen and Ellie stayed in their beds all day, bathing in each other’s warmth and presence and whispering stories and jokes and secrets and questions. 

It was the best day that Stephen had had in months.

But all good things always came to an end, Stephen had once heard an adult say. He just didn’t think the end would come so quickly. The day after Ellie’s birthday, Stephen woke up to an excruciating pain in his stomach, and his groin and his neck muscles ached and pulled, and so did his back muscles and the pain basically radiated throughout his whole body. It was awful, but it was different than before.

 _Are you sick_? He asked, clutching at his abdomen.

 _Not really, but I feel like I’m going to be_. Ellie admitted.

 _What’s wrong_? Stephen thought.

 _What are you feeling_? Ellie asked, in return.

Stephen thought that was an odd question, but he answered it anyway.  _I feel like I’m being stabbed through the stomach by a thousand and one ninja swords and I feel achey all over._

Ellie sighed, and Stephen felt guilt creep into his chest.  _I’m sorry. My sister gave me some medicine so it should get better soon_.

 _So, you are sick_? Stephen didn’t understand why she wasn’t just telling him what was wrong.

Ellie shrugged.  _I guess_.

 _Can I do anything_? Stephen was forever full of questions.

He felt Ellie lean into him, he leaned back into her, thrilled to feel her wanting more of him. It had been a long time since she’d so desperately reached out for him, seeking his comfort, but he could feel how vulnerable she felt and he thought that that was probably how he felt when he was sick too. So, he leaned in even more.

Ellie hummed and relaxed some, the pain still radiating in both their stomachs.  _Do this, please_. She sounded airy and sweet. It made Stephen feel dizzy with contentment.  _Just stay right next to me, okay, Stevie?_

 _Anything you want_. He replied, and he could not have meant it more.

Stephen stayed home from school, but Ellie trudged through the day, causing Stephen to think that she definitely had superhuman strength, cause he felt like crap. The moment she got home, she threw herself fully back into the connection and stayed like that the rest of the night; neither child getting up for dinner, neither child having much of an appetite.

 _The next morning proved to be far less enjoyable_.

Stephen woke to a duller ache in his stomach and pure fear running through his veins.  _Ellie’s_.

He could almost taste the bloody, metallic taste of her adrenaline on his tongue. It made his stomach turn. 

Moments later, he was screaming for her in his head, demanding she protect herself because if Stephen could put two-and-two together, he knew that he was feeling her be dragged by her hair then choked at her throat. He could feel the large hands wrapped around her neck. He knew that they had to belong to her brother, George. They were too big and meaty to be her older sister’s hands.

He felt her get dangerously close to passing out before the hands released her and she could finally breathe again. Stephen had to catch his breath with her. Her gasping sobs bounced around in his chest and he honestly thought he might vomit. He could feel Ellie’s hands holding the place where the larger hands had been, by her windpipe, and all he heard was her repeating how sorry she was, over and over and over again.

He didn’t have the heart to yell at her about the rough housing or the not fighting back or the not calling for her parents, or why it had happened in the first place, instead, he simply held her, as best he could, with his mind, rubbing his wrist in a hypnotic rhythm so that she could feel it on her own wrist.

He didn’t ask any questions because he knew she wouldn’t want to answer them right then, and frankly,  _he knew who was to blame_.

Stephen vehemently hated Ellie’s brother and sister.

* * *

* * *

Stephen didn’t have very many friends. There was Greg, who he really only saw at school, the boys who Stephen played soccer with, and some of the neighborhood kids, but mostly, Stephen didn’t see the point of friends,  _not when he had Ellie_. 

Although, Stephen wasn’t entirely certain that he would ever classify Ellie as a friend.

Technically speaking, Ellie  _was_  his friend. In fact, she was his best friend, but ’ _friend_ ’ wasn’t how Stephen felt in relation to her. He certainly didn’t feel like her brother. He wasn’t sure if he really liked girls at all yet either, so crush probably wasn’t terribly accurate either, although Stephen did spend an exorbitant amount of time thinking about what Ellie would look like if she were real.

But Ellie was simply so much more to Stephen than any one word could define. Trying to assign a simple title to Ellie seemed shallow and pointless.

She was  _everything_  that Stephen loved in the world. 

She was  _everything_  to him. 

 _She_   _was_   _everything_.

He adored her with every cell in his tiny body, and Stephen understood that. He assumed she understood that as well, seeing as she could feel the majority of his feelings. He loved having her around. 

They didn’t have to talk all day or tug at each other, Stephen simply liked knowing she was always there. He didn’t ever find her intrusive or suffocating, she was just a part of his every day life and Stephen truly had no idea what he would do if Ellie wasn’t around. He was grateful he didn’t have to know.

* * *

* * *

In previous years, Stephen remembered June in Southwestern Oregon to be mild and dry, but not overly hot or stormy. June, in the year of the solar flares was a different story. 

Stephen couldn’t help but notice how abnormally hot it was and how odd the grown ups were all acting.

He didn’t really mind that his mother and teachers and the adults he’d pass on the streets and in shops were all strange and fidgety and quiet because it meant that no one was paying too much attention to him. He wasn’t being scrutinized by his mother as much and it made it easier for Stephen to spend his first few days of summer vacation laying in front of the fan on his bedroom floor happily chatting with Ellie without being overly concerned that his mom might catch him.

He mentioned to Ellie about the intense heat, and she remarked that June in Chicago was always hot but that this particular year it felt sweltering. Ellie and her siblings had been confined to their apartment, once school ended, because Ellie said that the adults around her had been acting crazy. Stephen didn’t understand why the heat was making everyone go insane. She said that there had been black outs and looting but as the month went on, and the temperature continued rising, Ellie told him that Chicago grew quiet, mostly because everyone was staying in doors. It was simply too hot to do anything at all.  

Stephen and Ellie didn’t mind this turn of events at all. They simply laid in their beds all day long chattering, telling stories, reaching out to each other, and overall, indulging in their connection. Stephen had blocked everything else out. It was simply him and Ellie and no one else.

 _Exactly how he liked it_.

August came and neither Stephen, nor Ellie, returned to school, although, Stephen didn’t find that annoying. If his school was closed, there was simply no reason at all for his imaginary headmate’s school to be open.  

But then September arrived, unceremoniously, and neither the weather cooled, nor school resumed.

One evening, in the middle of the month, Stephen’s mother burst into his room with a look on her face that screamed nothing short of ’ _terrified_ ’. It set Stephen on edge. 

She began running around his room, demanding he pack only what he absolutely needed, as she pulled clothes and shoes out of his closet and drawers. She threw everything in a duffel bag and as she yanked Stephen out of his room, by his wrist, he begged her to stop and tell him what was happening. She told him that they didn’t have the time.

Stephen sat in the backseat of his car, watching his mother frantically speed towards the sign on the freeway that read ’ **Colorado** ’. Stephen really didn’t understand.

The next morning, Stephen woke on a bed in a the hotel room that his mother had stopped at, after driving for what felt like hours and hours, and he felt Ellie tug at him, frenzied and worried.

 _Stevie_. She whispered his name in his ear.

He leaned into her presence.  _What’s wrong_?

 _Have you watched the news? Are you okay? You’re out of Oregon, right_?

Usually, Stephen was the one with the penchant for asking a lot of questions. He glanced over at his mother, still asleep in the opposite bed, and turned his back towards her, shutting his eyes again and gripping the edge of his pillow, as if he was gripping Ellie’s hand. 

 _I just woke up_. He thought.  _We stopped at a hotel in Colorado, I think. Why? What happened_?

Ellie paused, and Stephen felt relief wash over her, then he felt anxiety creep in.  _Umm_.. Ellie’s humming reverberated in Stephen’s skull. He curled his knees up to his chest and thought of what it would feel like to hear Ellie talk in real life. She spoke quietly and trepidatiously.  _There was a tsunami that hit the whole West Coast_.

“ **What**?” Stephen shot up in bed and clambered around in the darkness of his hotel room, looking for the remote. His sudden shouting startled his mother out of her sleep.

“What? What? Are you okay?” She blinked around the room, letting her eyes adjust to the sudden onslaught of bright light coming off the television. “Oh god.”

 _Stevie_..? Ellie whispered, her voice small and sad.

 _Oh my god_. He thought back, not necessarily directed at Ellie, but she heard it nonetheless.

“Oh my god.” Stephen’s mother echoed his sentiment out loud, as she covered her gaping mouth while watching the horrors on the screen.

“ ** _At 11:08 this morning, Eastern Standard Time, the largest tsunami, in written record, swallowed up every coastal city of North America, South America, the African continent, and Europe. Central America got hit the worst and current satellite images show no land masses. Everything on the Eastern seaboard and everything in Washington, Oregon, California, Hawaii and Alaska have simply…. ceased to exist. We will bring more updates as we get them. The government is estimating death tolls in the hundreds of millions…_** ” The reporter on the television was visibly choking back tears, as he spoke over the video of helicopters surveying what used to be downtown Los Angeles, only the tops of the tallest skyscrapers still visible.

Stephen turned to his mother. She was openly weeping, clutching her chest and burying her face in her hands. He had no idea how to feel. 

He was confused as to how his mother knew to leave before a gargantuan force of nature destroyed half of the world’s population and his home. He was upset that everything he knew and loved were probably gone. He was scared about where he was going to live. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life in that hotel room; the pillows weren’t squishy enough. He was scared of what else may be coming.

He climbed into his mother’s bed, and let her cradle him and cry. He teared up in her arms. Seeing her so upset and frightened, shook Stephen to his core. He reached out to Ellie and felt her trying to mask her fear with confidence. She told him everything was going to be alright over and over and over again.

Stephen hoped she was right.

Stephen later found out, from eavesdropping on his mother, that she had a close friend, in a newly formed government organization, who had known that the intense heat was becoming too much for the world’s environment. The polar ice caps had melted too rapidly and sent a flood of new water into the oceans, raising the sea levels too fast, and causing a catastrophic wave that practically had the power to blanket the earth. He had tipped Stephen’s mother off when he first heard about the imminent disaster and just barely gave her enough forewarning to get out in time.

After that, Stephen and his mom were moved around from shelter to shelter. He hated it. He missed his house. It was small and drafty and usually smelled of mildew, but it was where he grew up, and more importantly, it was his. He had his own room, his own toys, his own clothes and he missed all of it.

One evening, on the last night in September, Stephen couldn’t fall asleep. He was in a government-run refugee shelter, that was basically just a repurposed sports stadium with cots. There was a vicious storm brewing outside and the booming claps of thunder were keeping him from falling asleep. He told his mother that he was going to go to the bathroom, and instead walked off towards the stairwell with the big windows. They’d only been there for a few days, but Stephen already had the lay of the land in that particular shelter. He reached out to Ellie and felt nothing short of instant relief when she quickly slid into his mind.

 _I thought you were trying to go to sleep_? She thought.

Stephen shrugged and climbed up into the indented, cement windowsill.  _There’s a storm outside. Couldn’t sleep_.

 _A lightning storm_? Ellie asked.

 _Yeah_. Stephen tried hard to not flinch every time a flash of light brightened the sky, and was closely followed by a deafening clap of thunder.  _We didn’t get many of these back home_.

He wondered if Ellie could tell that he was a little frightened. If she had, she hadn’t said anything yet.  _I haven’t seen a thunderstorm in a long time_. Ellie thought quietly. She sent out a sleepy wave of comfort, and Stephen absorbed as much of it as he could.

 _Do you like thunderstorms_?

Ellie hummed.  _They’re pretty cool. Nothing to be scared of if you’re inside_.

Stephen could tell that she was trying to reassure him. He appreciated it.  _I wish you were here. You’d like this one_. Stephen smiled and pressed his forehead against the condensation covered window.

 _Describe it to me_. She said, soft and velvety to Stephen’s ears.

Stephen told her about each new lightning strike and each thunderous noise until he finally fell asleep, wrapped up in the warmth of Ellie’s existence.

* * *

* * *

October was awful. Somehow the worst month of them all.

Ellie’s mother had gotten sick very quickly and died mere weeks later.

Ellie never spoke much about her parents, but she seemed truly shaken to her core over her mom’s sudden departure.

She spent three days curled up in the warmth of Stephen’s mind, before she went quiet for two.

In the forty-eight hours that Ellie had cut herself off from him, Stephen and his mother were on the move again. He noticed that a lot of the people that were at the government shelter that they had left, were sick with the same symptoms that Ellie had described her mother as having before she died. Ellie returned and Stephen felt a soreness to his ribs that he simply could not explain. Ellie seemed more guilty than sad and Stephen truly didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like Ellie had made her mother sick. He told her as much, and she simply hummed in response.

In the final week of October, in the year that the solar flares scarred the planet, Stephen woke up one morning, in the basement of a church, huddled in a sleeping bag on top of uneven stones, next to his mother. He had been jolted awake by a flood of emotions entering his chest. They came on so strong that they knocked the wind out of Stephen’s stomach. He panted and picked them apart. They were Ellie’s, not his, and they were intense.

 _Panic, sorrow, and the purest feeling of pain_  he had ever experienced, radiated from Ellie and onto Stephen.

He heard sobbing and felt the phenomena that he had once heard described as ’ _deja vu_ ’ wash over his mind. He reached out and felt Ellie flinch away. He reached out again.

 _What’s going on_? He thought, scared of what her answer would be.

Ellie stilled for a moment, still crying, then, all at once, came crashing into Stephen, seeking out his solace. Stephen held onto Ellie for quite some time, squeezing his wrist so hard that he was certain he would leave a mark, but she felt it in her own wrist, so it was worth it to him. 

After hours of inconsolable bawling, Ellie had cried herself out of tears. She caught her breath and drifted off to sleep, exhausted from the exertion of crying for so long. Stephen stayed close by the whole time she was asleep. He wanted to keep a pulse on her emotions and be right there for her when she woke up.

Several hours passed, and she finally rose from her deep slumber.

 _Ellie_.. Stephen whispered.

She was silent for several minutes. He could feel her trying to keep a fresh wave of tears down in her throat. He could feel her fighting herself to tell him.  _He’s gone_. She whispered back.

 _Who’s gone_? Stephen wondered.

 _Ge_ \- A soft sob cracked Ellie’s crumbling resolve.  _George_.

Stephen didn’t understand.  _Breathe, El. Where’d he go? Where’s George_?

Ellie managed to recount the story of how armed, masked men broke into her apartment and took George in the early hours of the morning. They simply took him without any explanation. He kicked and screamed and fought, as did her and her sister and her father, but George was gone.

Ellie told Stephen that her father walked out of their apartment with a bag a few hours later. He said nothing as he left, barely even glanced at Ellie and her sister before he walked out the door.

Three days passed, and neither her father nor George returned.  

Ellie had been even more quiet than usual in those three days. She simply lived in the confines of the connection, and sapped Stephen of all his soothing energy. One evening, Ellie spoke in a barely there whisper. Stephen, somehow, had to strain to hear her, even though she was speaking directly into his mind.

 _You and my sister are all I have now_. She whispered.

Stephen knew that she was talking to him, but it also seemed as though she was simply coming to terms with that new normal and saying it out loud finally made it real.  _Ellie_..

 _Please don’t ever leave me, Stevie_. Her voice cracked and Stephen could feel the heat of an oncoming sob pooling at the back of his neck.

 _I won’t_.

 _You’re all I have, Stevie. Please, don’t.. Please don’t leave me. I couldn’t_ \- She was fully crying now.

Stephen couldn’t contain his own tears. He wiped them away, quickly, with the back of his hand. _I won’t, El. I promise. I could never and would never ever leave you. I promise._  He repeated.

He had never meant anything more in his life. Life without Ellie could only be unfathomably painful, Stephen imagined. He would never leave her.

 _He loved her entirely too much_.

* * *

* * *

After the Sun had ravaged the middle latitudes of the Earth, in December, Stephen couldn’t help but notice that the people in the shelters around him were incredibly sick. 

It wasn’t just one or two either, it seemed like most of the adults and a lot of the children around him were unwell and further, very angry about their ailments. It made Stephen nervous to be around so many unhealthy people because he worried that he or his mother might become unwell then too.

The upside to moving from shelter to shelter and going further inland was that all the travel stoked the hope in Stephen’s chest that maybe he was getting closer to Chicago, to Ellie. He didn’t quite know where they were most nights, but he knew that Illinois was in the center of the United States and if the coastlines were dangerous, then it would make sense that his migration would lead him towards Chicago.

 _He hoped_.

Stephen hated the shelters. Some were set up by the government and were based in old, repurposed schools. Some were run by various religious groups out of barely standing churches, mosques and synagogues. Some were run by not-for-profit organizations and were set up in giant tent communities. 

His favorite place to stay for the night was random, abandoned houses that he and his mother would come across. Sometimes they’d find a place and stay for only a night, sometimes they’d stay for a week or two, but generally, it was just his mom and him, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of how life was before the flares, whenever they stayed in a house.

Stephen sat on the lumpy reclining chair, while his mother slept on the couch, of the house that they were sharing with a nice older man and his son and two granddaughters. Stephen explained to Ellie, before he fell asleep that the granddaughters were nice and they played cards with him after dinner. Ellie told him about what her and her sister did that afternoon, and after cracking jokes back and forth and exchanging stories, the two of them fell asleep, happier than either had been in too long.

* * *

Stephen felt Ellie bouncing around in his head, several hours after he had fallen asleep.

He woke up to the sound of her frantic shouting in his head. Her urgency seeped into his veins and her panic crawled under his skin. He immediately began coughing. His eyes stung and his nostrils burned.

 ** _STEPHEN. STEPHEN, GET UP. WHAT’S HAPPENING THERE? IT’S SO HOT._**  Ellie yelled.

Stephen smelled the smoke before he saw it. 

He began coughing, trying and failing to get a clean breath of air into his lungs. He stumbled out of the chair and crawled over to his mother. 

 _Fire. There’s a fire._  That was all he managed to mumble to Ellie, before he focused his energy in waking his mother before the flames that were engulfing the ceiling, engulfed them.

They stumbled out and Stephen felt nothing but guilt as he realized that the four other people that they were sharing the house with more than likely hadn’t made it out. They were on the top floor and he didn’t see them in the street with him and his mother. 

He sat down on the hot asphalt and began to cry. His mother simply stood in front of him, staring at the house that held the remainder of their belongings crackle and roar and begin to collapse in on itself.

Stephen reached out to Ellie. She snapped back to him like a fresh rubber band. She knew he was fine because the connection hadn’t been severed, but he could tell how expectantly and nervously she had been waiting for him. 

 _I’m okay. We’re okay_. He mumbled apathetically into her head.

 _Stevie_. Ellie quietly thought his name. She didn’t need to say anything more than that. He knew she felt his pain. He felt hers. 

 _You… All of our stuff is gone though_. He added.

Instead of saying something, of which Stephen assumed there was very little to even say in this situation, Ellie reached out and tried to comfort Stephen through the connection.

Stephen felt a wave of emotion, his own and Ellie’s, as soon as she extended herself into his mind. That was when he finally broke.  _El, you saved me. You saved us._  He was crying again.  _You’re always saving me_.

He felt the ghosting feeling of Ellie shaking her head and her throat growing tight in his throat, as she tried to hold back her own tears. He supposed the raw emotion pouring out of his body and into hers was probably rendering her as deeply distraught as he was. She said nothing, but he could feel the words turning over in her head.

 _El_ … He needed to hear them.

She hesitated, but finally divulged a hard truth, although, he wasn’t sure why it was always so difficult for her to admit how deeply she cared for him.  _I just need you to stay safe_.

It wasn’t ’ _I love you_ ’, but it was the closest he’d gotten so far.

* * *

* * *

Stephen genuinely thought that it couldn’t get worse after his mother and him almost died in a fire, but did lose all their remaining belongings.

Stephen thought wrong.

On Christmas Eve, Ellie was taken in more way than one.  

* * *

* * *

* * *

**_[Even if it’s just ‘hey this was weird’, let me know what you thought. feedback for this series would be so adored](http://were-cheetah-stiles.tumblr.com/ask)_**  :) 

This chapter’s title is “ **[I Can Feel Your Pain” by Manchester Orchestra](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DSNOWzHI9i7U&t=ZDhmNTE0ZTdjZGE0NmI3ZDU0Mjk1OWRjZjlkOGFmNGIwN2Q1NjQ0NyxpT1h1VWw4Nw%3D%3D&b=t%3AwUX1Lq2S9x8l4UbM8Jaoig&p=https%3A%2F%2Fwere-cheetah-stiles.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173696549122%2Fthe-ties-that-bind-chapter-2-thomas-the&m=1)**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: "I Can Feel Your Pain" - Manchester Orchestra


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